BOOBIES!!

i'm enjoying my saturday morning coffee while switching between style's "how do i look?" and e!'s "dr. 90210" and all of dr. rey's fabulousness (oh my goodness gracious!). sometimes on saturday, i just like to feel bad about myself, ok?

a woman's about to go under as the dr. puts the gas mask over her mouth and she mumbles, "victoria's secret," and the dr. responds with, "victoria's secret - here you come!"

and then...i saw this article. really? people getting surgery and going into debt to raise their self-esteem doesn't actually raise their self-esteem but makes them feel worse? now, i know people aren't as smart as i like to think they are, but did we really need to conduct research to come to this conclusion?

52nd City

i wanted to endorse a short story written by the midwestern peahead. it's well-written and fun, if i do say so myself. enjoy.

Plague me once, shame on you!

i went to visit my parents this weekend, which consists of about 100 miles on the interstate. i called my dad when i was leaving to let him know i was running late but was on my way. he has this horrible habit of calling midway through my trip to see where i am, despite the fact that he knows exactly where i am.

about an hour after i called him, i heard my phone ringing and saw that it was him. i got annoyed because i thought he was calling to check where i am and see when i'll be home, but i'm about an hour closer than i was when i spoke to him before. however, he called to tell me it's storming where he is, so to be careful. it had just started to sprinkle, but it was barely anything -- not even enough to need windshield wipers. as i flip my phone shut, it starts pouring. this is mostly annoying because i'm hungry and hate having to go slow on the interstate but whatever.

a few minutes after that, i see balls of ice bouncing off my windshield. it's fucking hailing! in the wise words of frisboy, i was fucked in the last millennia, so i'm safe in this one. maybe some higher being heard dwight the night before when he said that there were too many people on this earth and we needed a new plague. amen.

iThieves

after spending a long workday working on my eMac, i came home and turned on my iPod, which is docked in my iHome, and started checking my regularly viewed sites on my MacBook. one such site had a link to this. oy. fucking elitists.

For once, the headline doesn't lie

there's a lot of pretty bad people out there, which makes it difficult to keep up with all of their tales. however, i was in the kitchen at work this morning on the way out with my mug o' hot cocoa, and i decided to take a look at the front page headlines. i didn't read the whole article but i read enough. see for yourselves.

Asheville, Smashville

i headed to the liberal capital of the south this weekend. i had never been before, and whenever mentioned, this seemed to bring out shock and awe to the receiver of this fact. i decided to change that, so i went. it had a cool little downtown with almost no chains, which is a welcome change for me. having lived in strip-mall central, i yearn for their absence. it was nice going to local coffee shops and boutiques and restaurants and the like.

asheville is sort of where the hippies and artsy people flock if they're not interested in moving far west. i'm not sure what it is about the mountains that attracts these sorts, but nonetheless, they do. anyway, when i think artist or hippie, i do not think rich or superficial -- in fact, they go out of their way to negate such adjectives. yet this town was completely unaffordable to me, and i like to think i make more than a starving artist. coffee and food and things were normal-priced. but everything else -- just a souvenir to say, "i support you" -- was no less than $40, and that's being generous. there was a little sidewalk crafts fair with no more than 6 tables -- nothing was under $50.

money and expenses aside -- this grouping of people also tends to preach hatred of elitism. these now-adults were probably at one point complete outcasts and gravitated toward an inclusive group. no matter where i went, i felt like i was being looked up and down and judged. if i didn't look a certain way or bring my sketchpad to the local vegan coffee shop or my mac laptop or reading the latest "in" author, i was a misfit. when did hippies and artists become so pretentious? when did they become the exact thing they hate?



as a side note that is completely disconnected to my previous rant, i stopped in a books-a-million this morning before heading back home to pick up a grad school book. i was looking in the "college prep" section. stuck amongst all the "how to survive your freshmen year" and "the top 10 colleges to change your life" books, was a sex book with a very, shall we say, showy picture on the cover. if this wasn't meant to be filed there, it sure as hell should've been.

Musings From an Advertising Assitant

i have to meet with the creative director/partner on a weekly basis to sort of catch him up on his jobs, and it gets me familiar with everything he's working on. i really don't mind this, and the more i do it, the more i learn (n....b....c).

i was told when i started this job 2 months ago not to let him intimidate me. that in itself intimidated me. he is really busy all the time, so it's a feat to try to get him to sit down with me for 20 minutes.

friday afternoon, i buzzed him and said, "do you have time to meet?" and he said, "with you?" and i said, "with me." and he said, "probably." so i told him that was very noncommittal, to which he responded i could come to his office in 5 minutes.

i'm getting nervous because the meetings are always rushed, and i'm still not exactly sure what i'm supposed to do at these meetings. i gather together all the things i think i might need with me. i take a drink of water to ensure hydration. and then -- i spill water into my lap and onto my skirt. how this happened is not worth going into; however, i'm about to meet with the partner of the company and i have a wet crotch. it's a wonder i haven't been promoted yet.